Calm before the Storm
by crackedradio
Summary: In which Fatima's thoughts stray into places she'd rather have them not to. Takes place after the official Gehenna novel. Written for 100women. Fatima, implied LucitaxFatima.


**Title:** Calm before the Storm  
**Fandom/Canon: **Vampire the Masquerade/ Old!World of Darkness**  
Prompt: **#94 Lost  
**Genre:** Gen, Drama  
**Characters/Pairings:** Fatima, Lucita; implied FatimaxLucita  
**Rating:** T  
**Summary/Idea: **In which Fatima tries to pray but has her thoughts stray into places she'd rather have them not to.  
**Warnings:** Spoilers for the official Gehenna novel.  
**Words**: 879

* * *

**Calm before the Storm**

The sun hadn't risen in four weeks.

Instead, the sky was covered in what appeared to be a black cloud so thick and massive that no sunlight could ever hope penetrate it. For four weeks, there had been an endless night, devoid of the sun, the moon and the stars. The earth was cooling. Needless to say, the Kine were scared. But what had send the Kine into a panic, had been both a blessing and curse for the Childer of Caine everywhere. A blessing, because they didn't have to fear the light of the sun anymore. A curse, because neither did the Antediluvians. The Final Nights had a strange sense of humor, it seemed.

The sun hadn't risen in four week and Fatima was grateful for it.

Fatima had been using the opportunity to finally perform the _Salah_ at the correct times again. The mosque - and by extent, the city - she had made a stop in, had been spared the worst. It didn't have electricity anymore because the power plants in the region hadn't been as fortunate, and the more and more frequent earthquakes had left their marks, but it was still mostly untouched. Peaceful, even. News of a massive red cloud moving in the direction of the city had made the Kine feel uneasy, however. They reminded Fatima of frightened animals sensing a predetor coming. One they could not escape.

Fatima got the feeling that this would be her last opportunity to pray properly for some time. For almost nine centuries, she had to either say the _dhuhr_ prayer after midnight or skip it entirely out of necessity. But not tonight.

She kneeled in the direction of Mecca.

Bowed her head.

Recited the verses.

Or better, tried to, because she couldn't really concentrate as her thoughts began to stray into places she'd rather have them not to. It almost always led her into thinking about _her_. Which was as distracting as it was useless.

Lucita de Aragon had vanished from the realm of the living.

She hadn't been seen since just before the Ancients had started to rage across the world (devouring or enslaving anything and anyone that crossed path with them).

Though Lucita was a creature of secrecy, she was also a kindred of reasonable prominence and influence – her disappearance had not gone unnoted. And there _were_ people searching for her. It was just that no one was able find her. Her contacts and informants couldn't find her, and whatever was left of the Sabbat couldn't find her, either. Albeit the Sabbat hadn't really tried to in the first place, considering that they had to deal with dawning realization that for all their boasting, they were just as helpless as the Camarilla and the Anarchs in the face of the rampaging Ancients.

In any case, no one was able to locate Lucita. It was as if the ground had opened and swallowed her up.

Fatima, however, had never even tried, for she knew it to be futile. The blood they had shared between one another had ensured that she had felt it when Lucita had died. It had left a…void in her soul, and Fatima had been surprised and unsettled by the emotions that had taken hold of her in the moment the bond had been severed by Lucita's final death. Anger. Despair. The distinct feeling of having lost something precious.

Lucita de Aragon was dead, and there was nothing to be changed about that.

And Fatima was at peace with that.

But what she couldn't help but wonder was: Did Lucita go down fighting? Did she go down the way someone like her deserved – fighting, standing, defying whoever (or whatever) it had been that killed her in the end? And knowing Lucita's style all too well, probably while throwing some very colourful and creative insults at them (even it was the Dark Father himself she was facing)?

If Fatima was honest with herself, she would have preferred it if Lucita had died dueling her, for there was a part of Fatima that had always considered the end of Lucita's second life hers to claim ever since they had first clashed during the crusades. If there was time, she would be looking for Lucita's killer and claim their life for taking the one that did not belong to them. But as it stood, her skills were needed elsewhere, by someone of far greater importance than Lucita.

What was done was done and there was no time to seek revenge. Or need to. If the Grandfather succeeded (and he would succeed), justice would be served either way.

Briefly, she wondered what Lucita would have done, had she still lived. There were many things Fatima could have seen her do, but submitting to anyone, even an Antediluvian, was not one of them. Lucita had destroyed everyone and everything that had tried to control her.

That was probably the biggest difference between. Grandfather Haqim commanded Fatima's every move and she was happier for it. Fatima served gladly, whether it was Haqim or Allah, whether it was the greatest Judge on Earth or the greatest Judge in Heaven. Especially now.

Speaking of which. A crimson storm was rising above the city, huge and terrible. There was a whisper in the back of her head, in an old, old tongue that Fatima did not speak but instinctively understood nevertheless. She collected her bearings. Drew her sword, the one she had cut down so many with.

It was time.

And with some regret she remembered that she had forgotten to say her prayers.


End file.
